


Temptation Burns

by IgnisFlos



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Co-workers, Enemies to Lovers, F/F, I’ll update the tags as I go, Modern AU, Smut, Teacher Tissaia de Vries, Teacher Vanielle of Brugge, i WILL commit to this, they’re university lecturers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-13
Updated: 2021-03-03
Packaged: 2021-03-18 07:29:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 19,122
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28739538
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IgnisFlos/pseuds/IgnisFlos
Summary: Vanielle Brugge is the new lecturer at Aretuza University, and her boss, Tissaia de Vries, is adamant on hating her.
Relationships: Vanielle of Brugge/Tissaia de Vries
Comments: 48
Kudos: 33





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> hi there welcome back to me shoving this ship down everyone’s throats ✨

Tissaia needed a coffee. Desperately. She’d been awake since five in the morning and at work since seven, and it turns out her students are utterly incapable of reading one single act from the play they were studying. They were at university, and Aretuza was the best on the Continent, they should know better. Really, though, it wasn’t like they were secondary school students who could just  _ pretend _ they read what they were meant to and get away with it; if they didn’t do their required reading here, at Aretuza, they would fail. Tissaia made that perfectly clear in their very first class. She was strict, hard on her students, and she wasn’t fair in her marking either. But, that’s because Tissaia wanted all her students to succeed. She already knew, from day one, who would last and who wouldn’t—that’s why she put the same amount of pressure on each and every one of them, to cause the week ones to drop out—it was like putting a hose down a hole and flooding all the ants out of their nest. If they stayed, they drowned. If they left, well, they’d have to find somewhere else.

Not everyone was receptive of her teaching methods, however. Yennefer (who was sitting in Tissaia’s office right now), for example, was one of those people. She was brash, impulsive, and answered back every chance she could get. It was a pity, really, Yennefer was a brilliant student, one of Tissaia’s best, but her attitude was a let down. The girl should have read all the way up to Act Three of Macbeth by now, but she hadn’t even started Act One. Tissaia wasn’t a primary school teacher, she wasn’t going to hold her students’ hands. Never. Of course, she’d provide help, but she wouldn’t  _ tell  _ them how to do their work. Tissaia wasn’t a babysitter… even if she did feel like one sometimes.

Yennefer was sat across from Tissaia wearing the black suede jacket she always wore with a white shirt underneath, her crossed arms covering a pattern on the shirt, looking completely disinterested. She was slouched and Tissaia could feel her leg bouncing impatiently underneath the table. She had half a mind to snap at Yennefer to stop bouncing her leg, but that wasn’t a priority right now. Her priority was making sure Yennefer succeeded.

“Tell me, Yennefer, why haven’t you done the required reading for my class?” Tissaia tried to sound understanding, but, honestly, she wasn’t good at it, “each week I ask everyone to email me a short summary of the act we’ve read so I can make sure they’ve understood it. Most people do, and I can always tell who’s done the reading and who hasn’t… but you, Yennefer, you never email me anything. Why?”

“I have other classes too, Tissaia,” Yennefer grumbled.

Every week this girl tested Tissaia’s patience, every week Tissaia would send an email asking Yennefer if she’d done the reading, and every week Yennefer would never email back. This is the first time Tissaia spoke to Yennefer in her office. If Tissaia was honest, she thought she was being fair.

Tissaia sighed, “I used to be a university student, so I understand that, I do,” she leaned forward over the desk to try and get Yennefer to pay attention, “but Yennefer, you  _ will  _ fail if you don’t do the reading. You need a study schedule to manage your time—“

Tissaia was about to carry on, but stopped when her office door opened and a woman walked in. She had her brown hair tied back in a loose bun, and was wearing a brown cardigan over a blue turtleneck tucked into brown tapered pants that were kept at waist height by a thick black belt. She was certainly beautiful, and her polite smile emphasised that. That didn’t make Tissaia any less annoyed, however; she had never seen this woman before in her life, and to barge into her office without knocking, dressed like that, Tissaia deduced that she was the new lecturer.

Tissaia raised an eyebrow at her and snapped, “what?”

The woman’s smile faltered, “Um… hello, I’m Vanielle Brugge, the new lecturer,” she quickly made her way over to Tissaia and held out her hand, “it’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“You interrupted my meeting with a student,” Tissaia stared at Vanielle’s hand, refusing to shake it.

“I’m Yennefer, the student Tissaia is interrogating. She’s real touchy, and a bit too strict for her own good, sorry about her, but you’ll get used to it,” Yennefer took the silence as an opportunity to introduce herself and poke fun at Tissaia. She was grinning up at Vanielle and ignored Tissaia glaring at her.

Vanielle’s lips curled into a small smile and she stifled a laugh before schooling her face back into a neutral expression. If Stregobor had let Tissaia carry out the interviews for the new lecturer, Tissaia never would have hired Vanielle. What sort of person smiles at a joke about their boss? Well, Tissaia would frequently laugh about Stregobor behind his back, so she guessed it would be hypocritical of her to scold Vanielle for it. But Vanielle was right in front of her!

“It’s nice to meet you, Yennefer,” Vanielle nodded.

Yennefer’s grin disappeared the second she looked at Tissaia, and Vanielle looked down at the floor as if her mother caught her stealing sweets from the cupboard.

Vanielle cleared her throat, “I’ll wait outside.” She gave a small smile to both Tissaia and Yennefer before hastily turning and leaving the room.

Tissaia sighed and looked at Yennefer. The girl was back to being defiant as if the last two minutes never happened. Tissaia already had to kick three girls off the course; Anica, Doralis, and Lark—she knew from day one that they wouldn’t last, but it didn’t mean that Tissaia didn’t at least try to push their potential. Alas, none of them met the expected grades, and had to leave. Yennefer, despite her many disappointing moments, was extremely smart and had potential—which showed when she handed in an assignment—so she was kept on the course.

“I used to be like you, you know,” Tissaia opened her laptop and Yennefer tilted her head. So now Yennefer pays attention? Too bad Tissaia was done, then. Tissaia dragged the silence out to let Yennefer think before speaking again, “you may go, Yennefer. And think about what I’ve said.”

Tissaia loaded up some work on her laptop and watched from the corner of her eye as Yennefer left her office. Her students were going to be the death of her. She rubbed her face with her hands and closed her eyes; a couple deep breaths and a couple minutes and she’ll let Vanielle back in, she just needed to compose herself. Tissaia looked at the work on her laptop—lecture planning—and closed it. She was done with it anyway. Tissaia was always at least five lectures ahead of schedule with her planning, she stayed in her office until late hours of the night, arrived at work early every morning, and even brought it home with her. Her friends regularly told her she had no life. But, oh well.

Outside the door, Vanielle laughed at something Yennefer had said and Tissaia rolled her eyes. She was sure it was a joke about her. Probably. Most of Tissaia’s students joked about her, or complained about her, and she didn’t care. It wasn’t Tissaia’s job to be liked or loved, it was her job to  _ teach _ and make sure her students succeeded, to make sure they graduate with the best grades possible. Still, it was nice to be liked by the few that did like her.

Tissaia waited until Yennefer’s footsteps receded down the corridor before opening her door to let Vanielle back in. She shut the door and Vanielle sat in front of Tissaia’s desk. Tissaia sat behind her desk and looked at Vanielle for a second, studying her. There was a kindness in her brown eyes, she was sat almost as straight as Tissaia, and, now that they were closer, Tissaia could see that they were nearly the same age. Vanielle didn’t have a permanent frown though, not like Tissaia. Tissaia crossed her legs under the desk and accidentally kicked Vanielle, and thankfully for Tissaia’s dignity, both women ignored it.

Vanielle leaned forwards in her chair, “I’m sorry for interrupting earlier, if I knew you were busy—“

“You would have knocked.” Tissaia’s voice gave nothing away and remained neutral, as did her face, as she finished Vanielle’s sentence and gestured for the woman to carry on.

“Yes…” Vanielle paused, not knowing what to say, and Tissaia let the silence settle until the other woman smiled and spoke again, “it really is lovely to meet you, Miss de Vries.”

Tissaia saw Vanielle hide a cringe when she had called her “Miss de Vries” and forced herself not to smirk at the formality, but she did decide to poke some fun, “there’s no need for formalities,  _ Miss Brugge,  _ we are coworkers after all. ‘Tissaia’ is fine.”

“Then I must insist you call me Vanielle.”

“I was planning on it,” Tissaia picked up a pen and placed it in line with the others on her desk before making sure they were all straight. Vanielle gave her a strange look; Tissaia ignored it, they were working together now and Vanielle would have no choice but to get used to Tissaia constantly being organised and neat. Everything had its place, and that’s where everything should be. In its place.

“Well, if there’s anything I can do to help anyone,” Vanielle offered.

“Mhm. There is.” Tissaia leaned back in her chair, “the students are currently studying Macbeth in my class, and luckily for them, it’s on in the theatre not too far from here.

Vanielle smiled, “oh? really?”

“It would be helpful for them if you went, you are a lecturer, after all.”

“Of course I’ll go,” Vanielle nodded and leaned forward with her arms on Tissaia’s desk, “I love Shakespeare.”

“Many people do.” Tissaia’s voice was flat and she averted her attention to some paperwork.

Vanielle was quiet, and Tissaia was tempted to simply tell her to leave, surely she’d get the message if Tissaia stayed silent and ignored her, though, right? Or did the woman just have no intuition?

“It’s a shame about Macbeth being on the syllabus, though,” Vanielle finally spoke and, at this, Tissaia looked up. She was about to shut Vanielle down, but curiosity got the better of her and she let Vanielle continue to see where she was going with her statement. “I don’t know who put it on the syllabus, but it’s overused, and almost all the female characters are villainized. I would have added Romeo and Juliet instead, but that’s biased as it’s my favourite of Shakespeare’s plays.”

Tissaia almost laughed, “and you think Romeo and Juliet  _ isn’t  _ overused?”

“Well— I… yes, but…” Vanielle stammered.

“Romeo and Juliet has become a cliche and is overused to the point of a great many contemporary romances using the forbidden love trope,” Tissaia spoke dismissively and raised an eyebrow, “Juliet’s entire purpose is to serve as a love interest, whereas the women in Macbeth are complex, even if they are villains. Both Lady Macbeth and the Three Witches serve as catalysts and drive the entire plot of the play, they have a purpose beyond love.” She leaned forward and clasped her hands together, “and for your information,  _ Vanielle _ , Macbeth is my favourite of Shakespeare’s plays, and  _ I _ create the syllabus for this course.”

_ “Oh…” _

“Don’t you have an office to unpack?”

Vanielle opened her mouth to respond, but knew better and closed it instead. She looked out the window to her right and then around the room, not entirely sure of what to do. Tissaia’s office was tidy and not a thing was out of place; her deep red trench coat was hung neatly on the coat rack by the door, books were stacked in alphabetical order by author on the shelves, her desk was at the end of the room next to the window and opposite the door, and a few plants were placed in areas where the sun would reach them.

Tissaia sat there, leaned back in her chair, with her legs crossed, staring at Vanielle, daring her to speak again. It was a dismissal and Vanielle understood it perfectly. She smiled politely and stood, exiting Tissaia’s office with a click of her heels.

Tissaia looked at the time. She had two hours free before her next class, so there was plenty of time to leisurely stroll to the cafe and grab a coffee before heading back to her office and drinking it in the peace and quiet. It would also give her enough time to go over the material for the lecture and make sure she wasn’t missing anything. (She wasn’t). Tissaia already knew this, she had already double checked her notes, but checking again never hurt anybody. It was good to be organised.

She got up with a sigh, put her coat on, and grabbed her bag before leaving her office and locking it to make her way to the cafe on the university campus.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi there!
> 
> i started chapter 3, but i’ve got 2 essays to write so it’ll probably be a while
> 
> chapter 2 of me shoving this ship down your throats

It was unexpected for Tissaia to show up late to the staff meeting she organised. Tissaia was never late to anything. Ever. She was either exactly on time or five to ten minutes early. Unless there was a perfectly valid excuse (like a car crash), she’d criticise whoever was late for their lack of punctuality. Of course, it happened to her once.  _ Of course it did.  _ Vilgefortz pulled out of a parking space and hit her car, did a surprising amount of damage, and cost her thousands that even her insurance wouldn’t cover it; he stood there for half an hour trying to convince her it was an accident and that he didn’t see her car. Tissaia didn’t believe him at all, but she had a class to teach that she was incredibly late to so she let it go and threatened him instead. He hasn’t been near her car since and started parking on the opposite side of the car park.

Today was another valid excuse. Tissaia ended up busy helping a student, and that, to her, was more important than meeting with Rita, Coral, and Vanielle. Tissaia was on the opposite side of the campus to her office and the cafe was on the way back, so she figured she’d stop there and buy some cookies—it would distract Rita and make her forget Tissaia was late. Coral? She wouldn’t be too bothered. And Vanielle? Well, Tissaia hadn’t sussed her out enough yet, but by first impressions, she’d be too kind to say anything about Tissaia being late.

As she opened her office door, strode in, and dropped some cookies in Rita’s lap, Tissaia noticed that Vanielle was missing.

Entering her office without knocking, and now Vanielle was late? Why should Tissaia be surprised? But, more importantly,  _ how  _ was Vanielle even late? Tissaia knew everyone’s work schedules and Vanielle had no classes today, she was completely free, and Tissaia had emailed Rita, Coral, and Vanielle yesterday to set up a meeting. They all knew in advance. And if Tissaia expected anyone to be late, it was Rita—she’d expect Rita to walk in late carrying coffees for everyone.

Rita handed a cookie to Coral, who was, as per usual, stood by the window and looking at the sea the university overlooked (Tissaia was lucky to be able to see it from her office), and offered one to Tissaia, who declined. Tissaia sat behind her desk opposite Rita just as Vanielle walked through the door with drinks in her hands. They’d both been to the cafe, it seems, and had just missed each other. Tissaia already knew Rita had a cappuccino and Coral had a black coffee; she could smell chocolate, so Tissaia assumed that Vanielle had gotten herself a hot chocolate. Vanielle gave everyone their respective drinks and stood to the left of Rita. Tissaia looked in her cup. Tea. Vanielle either made an educated guess or Rita had told her to get tea—probably the latter, Tissaia had tea when she was in a good mood and coffee when she was in a bad mood, and Rita was always good at reading Tissaia’s moods.

Vanielle smiled when Rita handed her a cookie and gave an apologetic look to Tissaia, “sorry for being late, I offered to grab everyone drinks when you didn’t show.”

Tissaia was about to bite back, but she supposed she couldn’t exactly blame Vanielle for getting drinks, Tissaia was originally late, and Vanielle arrived on time and had only done what Rita would have, and Tissaia wouldn’t bite Rita’s head off for it.

“I got held back by a student—they had some questions about the lecture,” Tissaia took a sip of her tea. She quickly observed the room and made sure she had everyone’s attention; Coral was leaning against the window watching Tissaia and sipping her coffee; Rita was leaned back in her chair warming her hands on her cappuccino; and Vanielle had her full attention on Tissaia with her hot chocolate on Tissaia’s desk.

Tissaia took another sip of her tea and leaned her elbows on the desk, “as you all know, at the start each year we watch each other’s lectures and do the same at the end of the year, too.”

“We do?” Vanielle was confused, and, if Tissaia was honest, slightly panicked, even if she did hide it well.

Right. Tissaia hadn’t told Vanielle. And neither had Rita or Coral. They must have thought Tissaia did so, and Tissaia assumed they would tell her—which was a mistake on her part (not that she’d ever admit that to anyone other than herself). Tissaia sighed and closed her eyes. Vanielle seriously tested her patience and they’d known each other little over a week. She was about to, as calmly as she could, explain what she meant to Vanielle, but Rita butted in. Thankfully.

“We watch each other teach at the start of every year and give each other peer feedback,” Rita explained, “and then we apply that feedback throughout the year. And at the end of the year we watch each other’s lectures again to see how we’ve improved.”

Vanielle nodded and smiled at Rita, “that makes perfect sense, thank you.”

“As Tissaia says,” Rita grinned and, much to Tissaia’s disdain, imitated her, “ _ even lecturers need to learn. _ ”

Vanielle chuckled and Tissaia refrained from putting her face in her hands—instead looking at Coral to find her smirking. Of course she was. Why wouldn’t she be? Tissaia did find Rita’s impression funny—embarrassing, but funny—and let herself smile a little. There was no reason they couldn’t all joke around; Coral, Rita, and Tissaia were friends, after all, even if Tissaia was their boss.

Rita looked at Tissaia with her shit-eating grin while Vanielle was trying to control her soft chuckling. Tissaia let the moment pass, there was no harm in it. None of them were on any time limit, and there was nothing wrong with some good natured humour.

Coral loudly slammed her hands on Tissaia’s desk with an “anyway,” making the other three women jump, and sat on it, to the right of Rita, laughing—she ignored the look Tissaia gave her when she sat on the desk. Coral knew Tissaia hated people sitting on her desk, but as long as she didn’t make a mess, Tissaia would tolerate it.

Tissaia quickly checked a spreadsheet with everyone’s timetables on it. Vanielle had a lecture first, then Rita, then Tissaia, and Coral taught last, so, naturally, the three latter women would sit in Vanielle’s lecture first. Plus, Vanielle was the newest, and it would be a chance for Tissaia to see her teaching style.

“Vanielle, you’re the first of us to teach, and the newest, so we’ll give you feedback first,” Tissaia turned her attention from the spreadsheet to Rita and Coral, “then you, Rita, then me, and you’ll be last, Coral.” Tissaia looked around, “any questions?”

“Yes,” Vanielle looked at Coral, “is Coral your real name?”

Tissaia internally sighed. In what possible world was that question relevant to the current conversation at hand?

Coral smiled and shook her head, “no, it’s Lytta Neyd, but everyone calls me Coral, even the students,” Coral glanced at Tissaia, and, seeing the look on the woman’s face, added, “I’ll tell you about it later.”

Tissaia stood, “you can tell her about it now. It’s lunch and this meeting is over,” she didn’t mean for her voice to sound harsh, but it did. It always did. Tissaia downed the rest of her tea and put the paper cup in the bin before leaving the room to grab lunch. Besides, she didn’t want to sit and listen to Coral explaining why everyone called her that instead of her real name for the hundredth time. (Okay, maybe Coral hadn’t done it one hundred times but it sure  _ felt  _ like it.) 

She had no other lectures today, and she was ahead on all of her work, there was absolutely nothing for her to do at the university, but Tissaia would still stay late, just as she always did. Life was a routine and it was comfortable. Chaos was uncharted territory, it was strange and irregular. It wasn’t routine. Tissaia liked routine. She thrived off it—there was an order for everything and that’s how it had always been, it was what made her feel stable. Without that, Tissaia would crack and crumble. She didn’t want, nor need, chaos in her life.

She always stayed late after work, and that’s how it’ll always be.

The rest of the day passed by like any other would. Tissaia had nothing to do, so she made herself a drink and read Act Four of Macbeth. It was, perhaps, the tenth time she’d read the play, but she was going through that act currently with her students, and it was always safe to be reminded. She got home late, of course, and made herself dinner—smoked salmon with roasted vegetables—before doing some housework and heading to bed at exactly 10pm.

Tissaia arrived at her office at seven in the morning (as usual) and got herself a coffee before heading to her office for a while. She was to watch Vanielle teach today, and she didn’t know how the woman would take criticism, so Tissaia wasn’t exactly looking forward to it. Vanielle’s lecture was at 9am and it was already 8:30am.

She waited until fifteen minutes before Vanielle’s lecture to leave her office and head to the lecture hall; it was only a five minute walk from her office, it gave her plenty of time to get there.

Vanielle was already in there, flicking through her powerpoint on whatever poetry she was lecturing today. Tissaia sat at the front in the far corner with a pen and a notepad. Neither of them acknowledged the other—Tissaia refused to speak first and she assumed Vanielle was too busy to pay attention to her. Rita came in next, followed by Coral, and they spread themselves out to make sure Vanielle’s attention wouldn’t be hyper focused in one place. The students filtered in shortly after, and once everyone was seated, Vanielle smiled and started her lecture.

Tissaia and Vanielle’s eyes found each other a couple times, but Tissaia kept her face blank, not giving away any of her thoughts. She didn’t like Vanielle, but Tissaia had to admit, she was a good teacher and the students loved her. Vanielle answered every question thrown at her and was constantly helping the class. In all honesty, Tissaia regarded that as babying and thought Vanielle was too soft on them; she was coddling the students, not teaching them to be independent in their learning. Tissaia looked at Vanielle again and studied her. The woman was certainly one of the kindest people Tissaia had met. She was approachable and had an aura about her that made her seem like she was some golden dust that fell from the sun. Despite the positives, Stregobor was the one who hired Vanielle, so he knew Tissaia would either hate her, or possibly fall into bed with her and end up in a messy breakup. Both were potential career ruiners. Tissaia knew the only reason Vanielle was hired was so Stregobor could spite her. He wanted Tissaia gone. It was just pure luck that Vanielle was a competent teacher.

Vanielle finished her lecture and Tissaia waited until the last student left before standing and going over to Vanielle with Rita and Coral. They all stood round the desk. Rita and Coral said relatively the same things; that Vanielle was kind and positive, and that she could improve by straying off topic a little less. They all turned to Tissaia and she raised an eyebrow.

“You babied the students. They need to take their own initiative and be independent in their learning, you cannot help them with everything.”

Rita pouted a little, “Tissaia, be nice.”

“I was getting to it.” Tissaia crossed her arms, “the students obviously love you, you clearly care for them in return, and you’re very competent in your teaching abilities.”

Vanielle smiled at the other three women, “thank you. We check back at the end of the year to see how we’ve all improved, then?”

“Yes,” Rita nodded and took Vanielle’s arm in hers, “Tissaia’s got a meeting with Stregebor and Coral has assignments to mark, come, let’s go get a coffee.”

Coral sighed and grumbled about marking assignments as she left the room, a little ahead of Rita and Vanielle. Rita dragged Vanielle by the arm chatting about Tissaia needing to warm up to people and how her “icy exterior isn’t real she just needs to thaw a bit.”

Vanielle laughed and Tissaia rolled her eyes at the remark. The door shut behind Rita and Vanielle which stopped Tissaia from hearing Vanielle’s response, but she guessed it was a laugh and something in good humour. Gods, that woman was too kind for her own good and it would be the death of her. Tissaia could be charming and kind when she needed to be, but at least she had walls built up to stop herself from getting hurt. Vanielle didn’t seem to have any of that, and, to Tissaia, it was just plain idiotic.

Tissaia looked at the time and groaned, her meeting with Stregobor was in thirty minutes, and, knowing him, he would snide at her if she was any less than ten minutes early. She grabbed her pen and notebook to drop them back at her office before making her way to meet with Stregobor. Gods, give her the patience to deal with that man.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and, as always, thank you for reading
> 
> stay safe <3


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this somehow ended up with 3k words, they have a group chat, and tissaia needs a drink

Tissaia wasn’t giving Coral control over a class trip again. Ever.

Since the students were currently studying Macbeth, and the play was on in the closest theatre to the university, (the theatre that was four hours away), Tissaia deemed it a good idea to watch the play. Sure, watching a recording of it on stage was indeed helpful, but seeing it live? Nothing could compare. This was an opportunity for her students to get the full experience; it would also be a little break for everyone, hence it was a weekend trip. The theatre was in the city of Gors Velen, the closest place to Aretuza. Tissaia, being the head of the english department at Aretuza, was naturally busy, so she handed control of the trip over to Coral. Coral’s planning was fine. They would leave midday Friday, arrive at the hotel in the late afternoon, stay overnight in the hotel, watch the play at 2pm Saturday, and leave Sunday morning. Perfectly fine. Except for one problem. Coral handed out room numbers to Tissaia, Rita, Vanielle, and herself—she had put Tissaia and Vanielle in rooms next to each other, both women looked at each other awkwardly and Tissaia saw the look of ‘ _kill me now’_ on Vanielle’s face before the woman forced herself back to looking neutral. Tissaia would have shared the same expression, of course, but she kept her face as blank as a slate at all times. She was like an empty sheet of paper, completely unreadable, and never giving anything away. Vanielle, on the other hand, was similar, but had rubbed out marks of pencil instead—if one looked close enough and paid enough attention, one could read everything. Tissaia enjoyed reading people. And, as insensitive as it sounds, people were like puzzles to solve, and finding the final piece was _oh-so satisfying._

It was the day of the trip and Tissaia was, obviously, early. Her small suitcase was already loaded onto the coach and she was waiting with Coral, Rita, and Vanielle for the students to arrive. It was the start of February and cold and all four women were wrapped up in coats. Tissaia was standing next to the coach door in boots, black jeans, a thick blue coat, blue gloves, and a black scarf. She secretly doubled her socks up, too. (Tissaia got cold easily, what else was she meant to do?) Rita was inside the coach keeping warm while chatting to the driver, and Coral and Vanielle were leaning against Coral’s car. Coral was dressed in some comfy clothing and a puffy coat, and Vanielle was wearing plain skinny jeans and a brown fluffy jacket.

Screw Rita for hopping on the coach first and keeping warm. Tissaia could feel the heat coming from inside, but she had the register, so she had to stay outside. She wrapped her arms around herself to try and preserve some body heat; Tissaia would join Coral and Vanielle, but she wasn’t exactly looking for an awkward conversation with Vanielle, even if the car engine was still warm. She just hoped the students arrived soon and quickly. The cold was horrible and, even with gloves on, Tissaia could feel the tips of her fingers freezing a frightful blue. If Tissaia died of hypothermia she was blaming Coral for handing her the register and coming back as some icy ghost to haunt her. Actually, she’d haunt Stregobor first and foremost, but Coral was definitely on the list.

Istredd was the first of the students to show up. He politely smiled at Tissaia as he got on the coach and she ticked his name off the list. Istredd was taking english combined with history, and, unfortunately, Stregobor lectured history. He was a smart boy, but he was one of Stregebor’s students, so Tissaia wouldn’t trust him to borrow a pen and give it back. It wasn’t Istredd’s fault, really, but Tissaia wouldn’t be surprised if Stregobor manipulated or bribed his students to spy on Tissaia and feed him information. That man was as dirty as a pig rolling in shit.

Jaskier arrived next. He was dressed in some loud clothing that, in no way whatsoever, Tissaia bet, kept him warm and sheltered from the cold. He was the loudest of her students; Jaskier was studying music and english, and was pretentious about it, much to everyone’s chagrin. He was, in his own words, “the world’s next great poet and musician!” He hopped on the coach humming a tune, not even paying attention to Tissaia. If he sang on the coach she was sure Yennefer would rip his vocal cords out, and, honestly, Tissaia wouldn’t stop her.

Tissaia ticked his name off the register, as well as some others and Yennefer’s name too. Yennefer looked at Tissaia for a moment before getting on the coach. Tissaia knew something was up with the girl, but Yennefer didn’t exactly like her, so Tissaia resigned to accepting that she’d never know. As irritating as it was.

At some point, while waiting, Coral made her way onto the coach and sat next to Rita; Vanielle was on lookout trying to spot the last remaining students that were late. Tissaia checked her watch, they were twenty minutes behind schedule, ten more minutes and they’d leave without anyone currently missing. She could see the puffs of Vanielle’s breaths and wondered how cold the woman was feeling. Tissaia sighed a long exhale and watched as the air from her mouth appeared in front of her before slowly disappearing. She’d checked the weather before packing her case—it was below freezing in Aretuza (which was expected as it was by the sea and out in the open) and just above freezing in Gors Velen. Of course it would be a tad warmer in Gors Velen, it was further in land and more built up. The buildings of the city sheltered people from the full force of the icy wind.

Tissaia huffed a sigh of relief when the final two students hurried onto the coach with two minutes to spare. She ticked their names off and climbed up the steps of the coach after them, sitting down by the window behind the driver. Tissaia rummaged through her bag she placed by her feet and pulled out a book. _Rebecca_ by Daphne du Maurier was next on the curriculum, so Tissaia was reading it (again). She could read a couple chapters in four hours and make some notes, provided she faced no interruptions.

Interruptions like Vanielle sitting down next to her.

Tissaia raised her eyebrows at her.

“There were no other seats.” Vanielle shrugged and eyed Tissaia’s book.

Of course there were no other seats. Just Tissaia’s luck to end up in the hotel room next to Vanielle and now be stuck sitting next to her for four hours. She saw Rita and Coral looking at them pointedly out of the corner of her eye and ignored them. What Tissaia didn’t ignore was the way Vanielle was staring at the book.

Tissaia tightened the grip on her book and half rolled her eyes, “let me guess, you have badly thought out criticisms of this as well?”

Vanielle scrunched her face up, clearly disliking Tissaia’s words, before grabbing a packet of strawberries from her bag and opening it as she spoke, “no actually, I rather like that book. But you wouldn’t know that, would you, Tissaia? Seeing as you refuse to learn anything about me whatsoever,” she bit into a strawberry and looked at Tissaia, unimpressed, “gods forbid you come to like me instead of vehemently disliking me when I’ve done nothing but be kind to you.”

Tissaia sat there in a stunned silence. She didn’t know what to say, it was like her brain just… malfunctioned. Vanielle offered her a strawberry and Tissaia looked between Vanielle and the strawberries before looking away out the window to the moving landscape.

There was nothing interesting about hedges and fields or a passing car or some cows and sheep here and there, but Tissaia couldn’t exactly read her book now, not after what Vanielle said, she’d never be able to concentrate. After a while of watching nothing but fields (and the rare farmhouse) Tissaia pulled out her phone. How had it only been one hour? It felt like three. Tissaia had no means of entertaining herself on her phone other than scrabble or sudoku, but she had some signal so she decided to text Rita. Or, more specifically, the group chat with Coral, Rita, and herself. Coral hardly ever replied in the chat, and most of the texts were sent by Rita—it was like a one woman show.

**Tissaia:** Rita, tell Coral I am going to kill her for putting me in the room next to Vanielle.

**Rita:** Tell her yourself, Tissy.

Tissaia could _hear_ the smirk on Rita’s face at the nickname and she had to refrain from glaring across the aisle.

**Tissaia:** She has headphones in, she always does when travelling.

**Tissaia:** And it’s Tissaia! Not “Tissy.”

**Rita:** You love it really ;)

Tissaia desperately wanted to climb across the seats and wring Rita’s neck. Or yell at her. But she had to keep her reactions to a minimum, to be professional; she was technically working and kicking a colleague in front of her students wouldn’t exactly scream “completely sane.”

**Coral:** I can feel my phone vibrating, shut up. And no, Tissaia, I won’t apologise for putting you and Vanielle next to each other.

**Rita:** Sorry, Coral.

**Coral:** Apology accepted. Hey, Tissaia, maybe Vanielle can help finally release some of that tension that’s always in your shoulders.

Tissaia felt herself going bright red. Her cheeks and neck were warming up. She was definitely murdering Coral.

**Rita:** You could scream in a good way for once, darling.

Tissaia was murdering Rita too.

**Coral:** _Come_ on Tissaia, Vanielle is very beautiful, and have you seen the way she looks at you sometimes, or are you blind?

**Tissaia:** 🖕🏻

Tissaia locked her phone and looked out the window, painfully failing to ignore Rita’s laughs disguised as coughs. The second there were no students in sight Tissaia was scrapping her dignity and throwing a pair of shoes at Coral and Rita. What made it worse was that Tissaia didn’t deny that Vanielle was beautiful. She had eyes, she knew Vanielle was attractive, but that didn’t mean she _liked_ the woman. Gods, never. But because she didn’t deny it, Coral and Rita were never going to let her live it down. And no, she hadn’t seen the way Vanielle apparently looks at her. Of course Tissaia hadn’t seen, she tried her best to pretend Vanielle didn’t exist, and that consisted of not looking at her. Besides, she wouldn’t be surprised if Coral made it up just to tease her.

The best thing for Tissaia to do right now was try and read her book. Granted, her concentration was lacking, but it was worth a try.

She reread the same page three times before giving up. Her mind was racing with the comments Coral and Rita made. True, Tissaia was always tense, and she had no way to, well, release it. Not since Rita, anyway. But that relationship had ended years ago, and on good terms.

The rest of the journey dragged on, and so did the rest of the day. After making sure all the students had their room keys, Tissaia headed straight to hers and unpacked before trying to read the book again. She gave up after losing her place twice and put the book on the nightstand a little harder than she intended to and sighed. It wasn’t worth getting irritable at an inanimate object, let alone one she needed. There was nothing for her to do other than eat dinner in the hotel restaurant with the others and then get a good night's rest.

By the time Saturday rolled around and Tissaia sat in her seat—Coral gave her and Vanielle seats next to each other, gods help her—she was in a sour mood. For starters, Jaskier tried flirting with one of the hotel staff and Tissaia had to drag him away after he offered to “serenade her to bed.” Tissaia heard Yennefer have a go at him after she walked away, and she was pretty sure Yennefer punched him based on the cry of pain she heard, but that was none of her business, and, quite frankly, she didn’t care and Jaskier deserved it.

And now, Vanielle and Yennefer were whispering while watching the play. She couldn’t exactly tell them to shut up; it would be rude and they were in public, so it was a guarantee people would stare and judge. So she seethed in silence. Tissaia thought Vanielle a competent teacher, but now she certainly didn’t. This was unprofessional. And annoying… mostly annoying. Vanielle and Yennefer couldn’t keep whispering for the rest of the two and a half hours, could they? Honestly, Tissaia wouldn’t be surprised, given how chatty Yennefer is and how much she disregards the rules, and how Vanielle was too friendly she was basically a pushover. Tissaia “accidentally” kicked Vanielle once and pretended not to notice.

Rita eventually whispered in her ear that she could feel Tissaia’s rage radiating off of her body.

“You’re scaring every child in existence, I can hear them crying, Tissaia.”

Tissaia turned her head to Rita, “ah, yes, I thought I could see tears in your eyes.”

Rita put a hand over her heart in mock offence and grinned before looking away to continue watching the play. The joke did calm Tissaia a little—Rita always knew how to cheer Tissaia up or calm her down and, even after breaking up, they remained close friends and were there for each other.

The whispering made the play feel like five hours, so when everyone arrived back at the hotel, and Rita suggested that her, Coral, Tissaia, and Vanielle go out for dinner, Tissaia was reluctant to accept the offer. She was tired and annoyed. But Rita gave her puppy eyes so she said yes.

Tissaia was anxious about leaving the students on their own in the hotel, but they were all adults, and besides, there were a few lecturers who Coral knew from other departments who came along on the trip, they could chaperone.

Rita mentioned formal wear and an hour to get ready, so Tissaia found herself standing in the hotel lobby wearing a black knee length dress, a teal blazer and teal heels with Rita and Coral. Vanielle came down not a minute later wearing a loose fitting, three quarter length brown satin dress with a red cardigan and brown snake print heels. Her hair was tied in a loose ponytail down her back instead of its usual bun, and Tissaia found herself locking eyes with Vanielle. She raised an eyebrow at her and gave her a once over before turning away. Tissaia may not like Vanielle, but she had to admit that the other woman had an impeccable sense of fashion.

Coral, Tissaia, and Vanielle were led by Rita through the streets on foot to a four star restaurant in a back alley. (Tissaia regretted the heels after all the walking.) And, thankfully for Tissaia, Rita sat next to her.

Dinner went well until Coral brought up Macbeth.

“Well,” Tissaia looked directly opposite her at Vanielle, “I would have enjoyed it if it wasn’t your whispering.”

Vanielle sighed, “I was just helping Yennefer understand some parts of the play—she’s a bit behind everyone else.”

Tissaia’s expression softened a little, “oh… thank you. For helping her, I mean.” she finished off the last bit of wine in her glass and Vanielle smiled.

Tissaia left the rest of her sorbet to melt while the other three women finished off their desserts. It was good of Vanielle to help Yennefer—maybe it was a good thing that Vanielle was almost babying her students. Yennefer obviously trusted Vanielle, and good lecturers were always trusted by their students. Tissaia knew she was a good _teacher,_ but when it came to being caring, she fell short. Tissaia did care, of course she did, she was just awful at showing it. She was glad Vanielle helped Yennefer. Even if it did ruin the play for Tissaia, if there was a chance that Yennefer understood it a little better then Tissaia had no issues with either Yennefer or Vanielle for whispering throughout.

They walked back to the hotel after paying their bill, and Tissaia really regretted wearing her heels. She was short, she always wore heels. But the university didn’t have uneven stony floors—everything was either carpet or smooth tile, or _even_ stone flooring, and outside was concrete or grass, there was nowhere for her to break her ankle.

It was only nine in the evening, so Rita and Coral headed to the bar for some tea. Both Tissaia and Vanielle were invited, but both declined. Rita gave Tissaia a suggestive look when Vanielle wasn’t looking and Tissaia rolled her eyes, knowing what Rita was like.

The walk back to their rooms was awkward, to say the least, but Vanielle said goodnight to Tissaia, and Tissaia said it back. Just to be polite and professional. The journey home the next day was quiet and Tissaia and Coral sat together. Coral had her headphones in, and Rita and Vanielle were laughing behind Tissaia. Maybe investing in some headphones wasn’t such a bad idea if it meant drowning out people being loud.

Tissaia placed her shoes in the shoe rack when she stepped through her front door and hung her coat up before unpacking her clothes and putting them in the wash. She changed into some comfier clothes and fluffy socks, took her makeup off, and loosely plaited her hair.

A cup of tea was placed on the coffee table just as her phone vibrated. Tissaia made a mistake and unlocked it, looking at the group chat.

**Rita:** Coral, Tissaia, say hello to our newest member.

**Coral:** Hello Vanielle.

**Vanielle:** Hi all.

Tissaia had already opened the chat, they could all see that she’d read the message (she really should turn her read receipts off) so now she _had_ to reply.

**Tissaia:** Hello.

Gods. Screw tea, Tissaia needed some wine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank u for reading


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> feeling like it’s been years but it’s barely been 10 days

Stregobor was truly the bane of Tissaia’s existence.

Simply put, he was a sexist asshole. He disagreed with Tissaia being head of the english department, and the only reason she held that position in the first place was because there were no _men_ lecturing english. And, in Stregobor’s own words, he had to “keep up a good appearance.” Tissaia was only there to make him look good. She hated him. If Stregobor was on fire and Tissaia had a glass of water she’d drink it.

She could hear him down the corridor talking to someone, so she stayed in her office (at the opposite end of the corridor, that’s how loud he was) just to avoid him. Could that man not be quiet? Did he _have_ to be heard? Tissaia was attempting to plan the end of year exam her students had to take and she was trying to concentrate. It was pointless, though, she’d have to wait until he shut up and left. Tissaia sighed and shut her laptop, her hand lingering on it when she heard a familiar laugh.

“Oh god…” Tissaia mumbled, frozen when she heard Stegobor say Vanielle’s name.

She swore. They’ve been out there for ten minutes now and that’s given Stregobor ample time to insult Tissaia, Coral, and Rita—Tissaia didn’t particularly care about Stregobor insulting her, she could defend herself, but Coral and Rita deserved no such thing. Vanielle was too… friendly… to deal with Stregobor. Tissaia wouldn’t wish him on her worst enemy. Wait—Stregobor was her worst enemy.

She stood and strode out her office to tell him, as politely as she could (and in different words), to fuck off. And to save Vanielle.

The second Tissaia saw them she could already tell that Vanielle didn’t want to be there. The woman looked uncomfortable and her eyes were darting back and forth between Stregobor and the elevator to her left. She wasn’t wearing heels today and was noticeably shorter than him, and had a disposable cup in her hand; the contents were either empty or cold by now due to the amount of time Stregobor spent talking. Vanielle was facing Tissaia and her stiff posture slacked a little when she saw her.

Stregobor had his back to Tissaia and she stopped behind him with a scowl, “Stregobor. Some people are trying to work and your obnoxiously loud voice is interrupting that.”

“Tissaia.” He turned slowly and had a disgustingly fake smile planted on his face.

Vanielle’s eyes flicked between them.

“Are you a failed actor, Stregobor? Because you’re doing a terrible job of pretending you should be in the english department,” Tissaia raised an eyebrow, the scowl still on her face.

Stregobor’s smile disappeared and he gestured to Vanielle, “I was checking up on our newest lecturer. She’s very lovely. I do hope you’ll keep your relationship _professional_ this time, Tissaia. We don’t want a repeat of past mistakes.”

Tissaia clenched her jaw. How dare he. Past mistakes? Rita was far from that. Gods, Tissaia would have no complaints if he dropped dead right this second. In fact, if Tissaia murdered him Coral and Rita would help cover it up. And would it really be a crime to murder an asshole like Stregobor? She’d be doing the world a favour.

“I think you should tread lightly, Stregobor.” Tissaia narrowed her eyes, “do you remember what happened when those rumours about you being bigoted floated around? _Because I do.”_

He clenched his fists and Tissaia carried on, snarling, “I suggest you make haste and leave like a dog with its tail between its legs before such rumours surface again.”

Tissaia knew it was practically a confession that she started those rumours, but he made comments about her relationship with Rita _repeatedly._ And he was always talking about how women would never be as capable as men, or as smart, or strong; he was a bigot and he deserved the backlash that came with those rumours Tissaia started, he deserved the amount of damage control he had to do for his image. He deserved it all.

Tissaia let her expression fall to indifference as Stregobor opened his mouth in rage and lifted a finger to point at her. He opened and closed his mouth a couple times before huffing and calling the elevator; Tissaia tracked him with her eyes as he stepped in it and watched as the doors shut.

She let herself sigh.

Vanielle was leaning against the wall looking exasperated; her arms were crossed and she was staring at the floor with a hard expression and was chewing her lip.

“Thank you.” was all she said.

Tissaia shrugged, “don’t think this was because I like you. Stregobor is an aggravating asshole.”

“Yes, I could tell in the interview he gave me. He started insulting you after only speaking to me for two minutes,” Vanielle laughed bitterly and looked at Tissaia, “he was doing it just now too.”

Tissaia sighed again, “he wants you to slip up and agree with him.” she leaned against the wall opposite Vanielle, “and then, when it gets back to me and I fire you for it, he can punish _me_ for not having a legitimate enough reason for firing _you.”_

“That’s… horrible.”

Vanielle scrunched her brows and looked away from Tissaia, lost in thought. Tissaia tilted her head and considered Vanielle; she was a smart woman, kind, delicate, and level headed. Intelligent enough not to play into Stregobor’s hand. It was… nice that Vanielle didn’t agree with Stregobor’s insults—whatever he said, Tissaia didn’t know, and didn’t particularly want to. She supposed it would be the good thing to do to give Vanielle some advice regarding Stregobor. The same advice she gave Rita and Coral after their first encounter with him.

“Let me give you some advice,” Tissaia waited for Vanielle to look at her, “avoid him. Avoid him like he’s the plague. The only person in the english department who should deal with him is me.”

“Why didn’t you interview me if you’re head of the english department?” Vanielle questioned.

Tissaia raised an eyebrow, “because Stegobor despises me and doesn’t let me have a say in things. He only became head of the university due to foul play,” she looked at the floor, her voice suddenly quiet, “it would have been me if he played fair…”

Vanielle tilted her head and opened her mouth to speak, but the elevator doors opened to reveal Rita sipping a coffee and holding a muffin. Vanielle shut her mouth and both her and Tissaia moved away from the walls and stood up straight.

“Vanielle, can I ask a favour?” Rita casually stepped off the elevator and continued sipping her coffee, “hey, Tissaia.”

“Hello, Rita.” Tissaia gave Rita a small smile.

Vanille nodded at Rita and waited for her to speak.

“I’m marking assignments and I need a second marker, would you mind?”

Vanielle smiled, “of course not, I can start now if you need me to.”

“Great, yes, thank you.” Rita smiled back at Vanielle.

Vanielle turned to Tissaia before going to Rita’s office, “thank you again.”

Rita winked at Tissaia before following Vanielle. 

Tissaia furrowed her brows at Rita’s back, wondering what the wink was for before shrugging to herself and walking down the length of the corridor to her office. Just like everyone else, she had work to do too; she needed to plan the next academic year’s curriculum and decide what to keep and what to change. Tissaia didn’t need to do it now, it was only February, and the next year started on October 1st, but she liked to be ahead. Planning ahead was what kept her life in order. Besides, the next year’s curriculum had to be handed in by the end of July, and if Tissaia didn’t start it now she’d probably fall behind.

As head of the english department, Tissaia had to plan what everyone was teaching. Of course, Coral, Rita, and Vanielle could request something to be in their curriculum, but, ultimately, it was Tissaia’s decision.

What she would do this year, and just like any other year, previous or future, was plan her syllabus first, and then ask Coral, Rita, and Vanielle for one thing they wanted to teach. Tissaia taught a Shakespeare play every year. “The combination of Old Norse and Old English” was Coral’s request every single year. Without fail. Rita varied from a variety of subjects, and honestly, Tissaia never knew what she was going to pick.

Seeing as Vanielle was new, Tissaia had no idea what she would choose. The woman was undoubtedly compassionate and understanding, a romantic (Tissaia based this purely on the fact that Romeo and Juliet was Vanielle’s favourite play), and she was surprisingly capable of defending herself. So, if Tissaia was to hazard a guess, she’d say that Vanielle would choose the romantics.

Tissaia sat at her desk and picked up a pencil, twirling it in her fingers, lost in thought. She could hear birds chirping and whistling outside. Students were chatting too, and if Tissaia looked out the window, she’d see people to accompany the noise—no doubt they were all walking back to their flats or going to get a drink and food from the cafe after a day of lectures.

She spent an hour ignoring hunger pains trying to decide which play to pick for the next year before she finally caved and opened her bag; there was a packet of cashews in there that she had brought on her morning coffee run. They’d have to do for now until Tissaia got home. She had other food in her office, of course, but none of it was filling nor healthy.

Tissaia looked back at her laptop with a hum and typed in _As You Like It,_ finally making a decision on the play before chewing on a cashew and returning to her work for a while.

When she heard her phone buzz, Tissaia looked away from her work, annoyed at the interruption, and unlocked it right away, already knowing who the culprit was. Because who else would it be, if not Rita?

**Rita:** What’s going on between you two?

**Tissaia:** What?

**Rita:** You and Vanielle. Things looked tense when I got off the elevator… she said you saved her from Stregobor.

Tissaia cursed Rita. There was nothing, absolutely _nothing,_ going on between her and Vanielle other than a mutual dislike for one another—well, Tissaia couldn’t read minds but just because Vanielle was polite it didn’t mean she liked Tissaia. Politeness was a courtesy.

**Tissaia:** Nothing is going on between us!

**Rita:** _Sureeee._

**Tissaia:** You’re fired.

Tissaia chuckled to herself when she heard a loud “ _WHAT?”_ Coming from the office next to her. It was a joke, obviously, Tissaia would never fire Rita; she was a brilliant lecturer, the students loved her, and Tissaia was close friends with her. She also had an alcohol stash hidden in her office. A very needed stash considering who was running the university. Not that Tissaia drank alcohol while working (she would never), but having some with Coral and Rita on a Friday after a long week never hurt anyone. She knew Coral had a growing pile of biscuits somewhere in her office, too. (There were sometimes crumbs on her desk.) Not that she’d ever tell anyone, or ever admit to it, but Tissaia had an entire draw at her desk specifically for chocolates. To everyone else, it was a draw full of pens, and, luckily for Tissaia, everyone either respected or feared her enough to never open it.

She stared out the window for a while to let some time pass. The coos from the birds soon turned to hoots from owls, and the chatting from the students disappeared. Tissaia could see her reflection in the window, and looked away from it. Instead, she cleared up her desk a little; she put some pens back in place, neatly stacked some paper, and made sure everything was in its correct place.

Tissaia leaned her elbow on the desk and rested her chin in her hand while she sent a quick email to Vanielle asking what one thing she wanted to teach next year. She tucked the pencil she was holding behind one of her ears and leaned back in her chair. It was late and Coral, Rita, and Vanielle would be at home by now. Tissaia needed rest, she needed to stop working and go home, but she was nearly done with this part of her work, so she’d stay until it was finished. She rubbed her eyes just as her office door opened and Vanielle walked in, heading straight for the window to look out into the dark.

Tissaia raised her eyebrows, confused that the other woman hadn’t gone home yet, and even more confused as to why Vanielle was in her office. Not that Vanielle could see, she wasn’t even looking at Tissaia. Rolling her eyes, Tissaia elected to ignore Vanielle for now and finish up the plan she was making—it wouldn’t take long anyway, and Vanielle was looking out the window like some wanderlust captive, so there was no reason Tissaia couldn’t carry on.

When she finished her work, Tissaia looked up to find Vanielle staring at her instead of out the window.

“What?” Tissaia asked.

Vanielle looked at her blankly, “why do you hate me?”

“Because I do. You’re annoying.” Tissaia scoffed. She didn’t exactly have a reason as to why she disliked Vanielle, now that she thought about it. Yes, Vanielle was annoying, but… what else was there? She was insufferably kind. Though, wasn’t it a good thing to be kind? 

Tissaia’s eyes followed Vanielle as she walked around the desk and held the arms on Tissaia’s chair, leaning over her. Tissaia looked up at her. She could smell Vanielle’s perfume—a mix of flowers and passionfruit. And mixed with her perfume—sea salt, mint, and daisies—it was enough to suffocate Tissaia in this one single moment.

Vanielle leaned closer to Tissaia, “Rita told me you weren’t all bad, that you just needed _time_ to warm up to people,” she laughed bitterly, “but you know what, Tissaia? I think she was just covering for you, because all I’ve done is be kind to you, and all you’ve done is be cruel to me. So, if you don’t want my kindness, then fine.”

Both women stared at each other, neither backing down. Tissaia didn’t dare show her shock at Vanielle’s words. Even though they’d only known each other for two weeks, Tissaia was used to the other woman being nice no matter what. Other than that time on the coach, Tissaia hadn’t seen Vanielle bite back. She wasn’t sure she wanted to.

Vanielle rolled her eyes with a huff at Tissaia’s silence and stood up straight. She gave Tissaia a look of disappointment before leaving the room.

Fine. Maybe Tissaia should have been kinder. But it just wasn’t who she was. She was stubborn and cold and indifferent, and if Tissaia was honest, she liked that about herself, it kept her guarded. If she didn’t care about things then she didn’t risk getting hurt.

Tissaia had somehow gotten the nicest person she’d ever met to hate her.

“Fuck…” Tissaia sighed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank u for reading 
> 
> chapter 5 will probs be a while bc i have like 3 assignments to do (i’m saying this but watch me update in like a week)


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi there it’s been a while. i had a ton of uni work (and still do) and am burned out but i managed to write something

Why did Vanielle always look nice? It was distracting at this point, and it was annoying. Tissaia downed the rest of her coffee and pulled a face before dropping it in the bin—the coffee was lukewarm, but her minor caffeine addiction didn’t care. More importantly, why did Vanielle look nice glaring down the corridor at her? What did Tissaia even do, anyway?

Other than be snarky… and cold. And abrasive.

Okay, maybe Tissaia deserved the glare, but it didn’t mean that she liked it.

Tissaia stepped onto the elevator and tapped the ground floor button. She’d been avoiding Vanielle since  _ that _ incident in her office. That was two weeks ago. Now, today, they both had a lecture together—they’d have to pretend to like each other for the sake of their students and Tissaia couldn’t wait to see how much of a disaster it was going to be. If anything was going to blow up in her face, it’d be this. Tissaia would have to spend an hour being nice to Vanielle whilst feeling guilty about how she’s treated the other woman. Fantastic. She’d also have to spend the hour trying not to be distracted by the pencil skirt and the silk blouse with the top buttons undone. Maybe if Rita stopped making comments to Tissaia about how nice Vanielle looked every day, then Tissaia wouldn’t be thinking about how nice Vanielle looked every day. It’s not like she  _ wants  _ to think about it, it’s just that Rita makes a comment and then Tissaia  _ can’t  _ stop thinking about it. But nothing would ever happen. They were just colleagues. And Tissaia could find a woman attractive without wanting to sleep with them. Anyone could do that, it was just appreciating the certain aesthetics that come with fashion and beauty.

Tissaia stepped off the elevator. There was thirty minutes until the lecture, she’d had coffee for energy and now she would just have to mentally prepare herself for pretending to like someone for a full hour. Nothing she couldn’t handle, right?

Wrong.

Tissaia tried to play nice, but Vanielle didn’t. It wasn’t even two minutes before both women were invading each other’s personal space to throw insults.

Tissaia just so happened to glance at the clock, “stop. Shut up. Class starts in two minutes and we can’t be arguing when the students get here—we need to pretend to like each other. For their sake.”

Vanielle looked Tissaia up and down, “it seems there’s some good in you after all.”

A backhanded compliment? How classy. Tissaia rolled her eyes and stepped away with a huff to load the powerpoint up on the computer. Tissaia was on her last week of Macbeth (she was just about to set an essay), and Vanielle was teaching Shakespeare’s sonnets this week, so both women decided to do a joint lecture on the historical context of Shakespeare. They were still colleagues. They still worked together. They had to do what was right for the students, even if neither of them liked it.

The students poured in soon after the powerpoint appeared on the board and filled the seats in the lecture hall. Tissaia and Vanielle stood side by side against the desk until the very last student sat down.

Vanielle spoke first. Tissaia stayed put leaning against the desk with her arms crossed and watched Vanielle as she started the lecture—as always, she had a smile on her face, bright eyes, and encouraged the students to ask questions. It didn’t escape Tissaia’s notice that Yennefer had taken a liking to Vanielle; she seemed more engaged than usual.

Maybe Tissaia was a little jealous how everyone seemed to love Vanielle, but that wasn’t anyone’s business besides her own. Jealousy was a rotten emotion and Tissaia would ignore it to the best of her ability lest she start turning green.

The lecture went surprisingly well. Tissaia set the essay at the end of the hour (an essay on Lady Macbeth arguing how important she was), and waited with Vanielle for all the students to leave. Vanielle had her back to Tissaia, so Tissaia stared at her a little and chewed her lip. They made a good team. They bounced off each other well in the lecture. Vanielle was an excellent partner. Despite holding resentments, Tissaia had to admit that they  _ did  _ make a good pair, and maybe in another life they could have been good friends, but that ship had already sailed and was never coming back. Tissaia took a deep breath. Maybe a compliment would make her feel less guilty about how she’s treated Vanielle over the past weeks. (Maybe it would also get Vanielle to be slightly more nice to Tissaia.)

“We made quite a good team,” Tissaia stepped next to Vanielle and helped clean up some papers, “you’re still too soft on the students, though, they need a challenge, not hand holding.”

Fine. Tissaia couldn’t help herself. But it was the truth—Vanielle was too soft on them. They were university students, they didn’t need guidance every step of the way, they knew what they were doing.

Vanielle rolled her eyes and glared at Tissaia, scowling a little, “you can’t just give a compliment, can you? It has to be followed by something negative.”

“It’s constructive criticism!” Tissaia crossed her arms defensively and pursed her lips.

“Oh please, you take any chance you can get to throw anything negative my way,” Vanielle scoffed, “what I don’t get is why. Why do you do it?”

Tissaia rattled her brain for a legitimate enough answer but couldn’t find one other than “you annoy me and everyone seems to love you after only knowing you for two minutes and I hate it,” but she wasn’t going to say that. Ever. Plus, Tissaia was still, unfortunately, distracted by the unbuttoned blouse. And now, Vanielle’s hair was falling out of its ponytail and little wisps were framing her round face, and she looked nice.

Tissaia wanted to scream. It was unfair that the person she loathed smelled of flowers and fruit and was distractingly beautiful.

“Because—“

“Ladies, ladies, let’s calm down, shall we? And not have a cat fight?” Vilgefortz stepped into the room holding his hands up in mock surrender with a fake smile.

Both women turned to glare at Vilgefortz for his interruption; he didn’t seem phased at all and stood uncomfortably close to Tissaia. She took a deep breath and glared at him even harder. He was staring. Why couldn’t that man just leave her alone? She’s refused every invitation to go out with him, and yet he still continues to stare as if Tissaia were some prize to be won at a fairground. If anyone was the definition of a snake in the grass, it was him; Tissaia didn’t trust Vilgefortz one bit. She narrowed her eyes and he finally shuffled away a little.

Tissaia grit her teeth, “tell me why, Vilgefortz, you’re in the english department when your home is on the other side of the university ten minutes away with the sports equipment?”

Vilgefortz’s mouth dropped open and his eyes visibly widened.

Tissaia carried on, “stop wandering around the university in your free time to look for excuses to talk to women and involve yourself in conversations that don't concern you.” She raised an eyebrow when he stayed put, “and close your mouth, you are not a codfish.”

He snapped his mouth shut and flicked his eyes between Tissaia and Vanielle before retreating out the door.

Vanielle raised her eyebrows at Tissaia and crossed her arms, “I dislike the way he said it, but he only told us to stop arguing. Why be so cruel? Or is it just in your blood?”

Tissaia opened her mouth and closed it again before gulping. She looked at Vanielle, somewhat sad, and somewhat disappointed, her voice quiet, “if he looked at you the way he looked at me, you’d feel differently.”

Tissaia picked up her bag and left the lecture hall without another word or look at Vanielle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i have no idea how teaching works so just roll with me here. thank u for reading :)
> 
> (if you caught the mary poppins reference, i love you)


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> vanielle is real bitchy but she’s MY bitch and i love her

Tissaia had just finished a lecture and unlocked her phone to one missed call from Rita, two emails, and seven texts in the group chat. Rita either had a date or punched Vilgefortz in the face and got fired. Either way, whatever had happened, Rita was exaggerating. Tissaia knew her too well to know that it wasn’t a real emergency, if it was real, Rita would have interrupted her lecture.

**Rita:** Emergency meeting in my office everyone!!

**Vanielle:** What’s wrong? Did something happen?

**Rita:** Just come to my office.

**Coral:** Can’t you just text what it is? I’m marking assignments.

**Rita:** No. It’s an emergency. My office! Now!

**Vanielle:** I’m on my way.

**Coral:** I’ll be there in five minutes.

Seeing as Coral sent the last message five minutes ago, Tissaia didn’t consider herself late when she walked in Rita’s office two minutes after Coral. Rita was sitting behind her desk, Vanielle was sitting opposite her, and Coral was by the window to the left of the desk. Tissaia stood to the right of Vanielle.

Other than the group chat and being mutual friends with Coral and Rita, Tissaia hadn’t seen much of Vanielle since their joint lecture almost two months ago. The woman always gave Tissaia either a sad or guilty look whenever they saw each other, and Tissaia didn’t know if it was because she mentioned the way Vilgefortz treats her, or if Vanielle felt bad for the way they both treated each other. Tissaia didn’t want her pity, though. She wanted no one’s pity. If Vanielle did, in fact, feel guilty about the way both her and Tissaia had treated each other, then Tissaia shared the sentiment. She wasn’t proud of the things she’d said. But in her defence, most of it was constructive criticism, and if Vanielle couldn’t take criticism then that was her problem and not Tissaia’s.

Tissaia sighed and looked at Rita, “Based on the text messages, Vanielle doesn’t know that you’re a drama queen yet and she arrived first,” she raised an eyebrow at Vanielle, “correct?”

Vanielle stayed silent and avoided looking at Tissaia—she could see that Vanielle had gone a little red, and she kept her amusement to herself. Vanielle hadn’t experienced Rita over exaggerating things yet, and Tissaia found her naivety quite humorous.

Rita smiled at Vanielle, and Tissaia heard Coral snicker. Other than the red tint of her cheeks, Vanielle’s expression didn’t give anything away as to how she felt; Tissaia gave Vanielle her credit where it was due, she didn’t guard herself like Tissaia did, but she knew how to keep a straight face. It was impressive.

Coral diverted her attention to Rita and asked, “why are we here, Rita?”

Rita clasped her hands with a smile and leaned over the desk, eyeing the other three women. Coral sighed. Tissaia crossed her arms; Rita wanted to play a guessing game. Tissaia knew Coral was too impatient for guessing games and refused to play them, and seeing as Tissaia was too smart for them, Tissaia knew Rita only wanted to play because Vanielle was new and had no idea what was going on.

Tissaia took a quick glance at Vanielle. Oh, she looked  _ so  _ confused. As much as Tissaia found Vanielle’s confusion hilarious (and to her ire, adorable), and as much as she wanted to indulge Rita’s game, she couldn’t stand when Coral was irritated. Coral’s temper matched her hair: fiery. Tissaia could see the agitation behind her eyes and in the frown on her lips.

Coral was trying to control it, for the sake of Vanielle, so she grit her teeth, “I refuse to play your guessing games, Rita.”

Rita sighed and nodded at Coral before staring at Tissaia, waiting for her to guess.

Tissaia looked out the window to think. Why couldn’t she just refuse like Coral did? But, Tissaia wouldn’t be Tissaia if she shied away from a challenge.

Seeing as Rita called the meeting an “emergency” and they all had no lectures for the rest of the day, whatever Rita wanted required time. And since it was April, and Rita’s birthday was in April…

Tissaia returned Rita’s stare, “please don’t tell me you dragged us in here to talk about your birthday.”

“Oh, I can leave if you want—seeing as you haven’t known me long and all…” Vanielle said.

Rita gasped, “no, no, not at all. You’re part of the team now, dear.”

Well, if there was anything to make Rita’s birthday awkward, it would be Tissaia and Vanielle having to interact. Tissaia had a feeling that Coral and Rita hadn’t yet caught on to the fact that she and Vanielle disliked each other. Then again, neither of them had witnessed Tissaia and Vanielle at each other’s throats. But, for Rita, Tissaia would act as if nothing bad happened between her and Vanielle.

“Besides, Tissaia still has to warm up to you,” Rita grinned at Tissaia and Vanielle before she leaned over the desk to quickly touch Tissaia’s arm, “see? Touch her, she’s freezing, the ice hasn’t melted yet.”

That  _ was  _ funny, but Tissaia wasn’t going to show it—she rolled her eyes instead.

Vanielle took a deep breath and smiled uncomfortably at Rita’s joke. She shifted in the chair and folded her arms so she was leaning away from Tissaia. Rita was texting and didn’t notice. Coral, however, raised a questioning eyebrow at Tissaia, who ignored her.

Ignoring Coral became out of the question, though, when her phone vibrated in her pocket. Rita was looking at her expectantly. As much as she loved Rita, Tissaia was losing patience. She wanted this awkward moment to pass and it wasn’t going to until someone changed the subject, and Tissaia had no ideas on how to change the subject, so evidently it wasn’t going to be her who did it. She shuffled side to side and looked out the window.

There was nothing interesting going on outside, unless a seagull perched on a branch magically became entertaining. It squawked a few times before it flew away—probably looking for food it can scavenge—and suddenly Tissaia had nothing to help her ignore the harsh tension in the room. Even the birds were against her today… She found herself looking at Vanielle again to try and see if she was feeling as awkward as Tissaia was, but Tissaia couldn’t see her face anymore. Back to staring at Rita, then.

When it became obvious that Coral wasn’t going to check the text Rita sent her, Rita rolled her eyes and turned on her laptop. She turned it so Tissaia, Coral and Vanielle could see—there was a list of places on a word document.

The tension was gone and all attention was now focused on Rita. Tissaia wanted to sigh in relief.

“What’s that?” Coral pointed at the screen.

Rita zoomed in on the list, “a list of potential places we can go. I want us to go out for a meal and then go to a bar afterwards,” she rested her chin in her hand and mumbled, “I just don’t know where.”

“And you want us to help you pick.” Tissaia said.

Rita nodded, “we’ve got no other lectures today, so we can take our time.”

“Don’t you have that meeting with Yennefer today?” Coral turned to Vanielle.

“No, that’s tomorrow,” Vanielle said and shook her head.

Since when did Vanielle have a meeting with Yennefer? And what the hell was it about? Tissaia knew that Yennefer liked Vanielle, however she didn’t know Yennefer liked Vanielle  _ that  _ much. The cons of being hated… 

Tissaia joined the others in looking at the laptop; there were at least ten restaurants and cafes on that list. All four of them were going to be holed up in Rita’s office for hours.

Tissaia loved planning, she really did, but not when it involved four people, or when she wasn’t in charge. She was going to need coffee. (She should probably stop drinking it and start neglecting this caffeine addiction she apparently had, but that wasn’t going to happen). She uncrossed her arms and straightened out any creases on her turtleneck before addressing the other three women.

“I’m going to go get drinks and muffins, seeing as we’ll be here a while.”

Vanielle leaned back in the chair and Tissaia could finally see her face, she was grinning, and her voice was dripping with sarcasm, “being here a while? In the office of someone who exaggerates?” she put a hand on her heart, “I would never have guessed.”

Tissaia laughed. Well, more of a chuckle, really. But that didn’t stop Vanielle, Coral and Rita from staring at her. Tissaia didn’t normally laugh out loud at jokes or sarcasm, she’d smile at the most, so she understood the stares. But the sarcasm was funny. So she laughed. She still disliked Vanielle, though, that woman could be a stone cold bitch sometimes, and Tissaia may or may not regret ending up on her bad side.

She cleared her throat. Tissaia knew Coral and Rita’s orders by heart: a black coffee for Coral, and a cappuccino for Rita. Vanielle tended to vary between tea and an iced mocha, so Tissaia presumed Vanielle’s order would be one of those two.

“You already know what we want,” Coral said.

Vanielle glanced at Tissaia, “I’ll have a tea, please.”

Tissaia nodded once and left the office.

Now that she thought about it, while standing and waiting for the elevator, one person wasn’t exactly suited to carrying four drinks and muffins. Well, she’d just have to deal with it.

Vanielle skidded to a stop next to her just as the doors pinged open. Tissaia raised a questioning eyebrow and held the door open.

“Four drinks and muffins are a lot for one tiny person,” Vanielle shrugged, “Rita’s words not mine. She said to help you while her and Coral start planning.”

Tissaia sighed. Rita was forcing them to spend time together. Lovely. At least Tissaia didn’t have to waste energy pretending to like Vanielle when they were alone, she could just sigh loudly and ignore her. Just like right now. Tissaia stepped in the elevator, followed by Vanielle.

“Why would I willingly spend time with you alone? I didn’t choose to go get drinks with you.” Vanielle rolled her eyes.

Right then. Ignoring was out of the question.

Tissaia scoffed, “oh I don’t know, maybe you’re stalking me, maybe you’re secretly in love with me. You want to kiss me or something?”

“In your dreams, de Vries.”

“More like my nightmares, Brugge.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank u for readinggg :)
> 
> will they kiss before 15k or no


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello :) hope ur swell this chapter is a lot longer than the last, enjoy

Tissaia neatly tied the bow on Rita’s present (it was wine and her favourite lipstick) and placed it in a golden bag before tidying the rest of the wrapping paper and putting the sellotape and scissors away in a kitchen drawer. She held the pen lid between her teeth as she neatly wrote on the card, slipped it in the envelope, and put it in the bag with the present.

She had roughly two hours to get ready before the taxi she booked would arrive.

The pen was put in a pen pot and she left the present by the front door before climbing the stairs to her room.

Tissaia shut her blinds and curtains when she entered her room; it’d be late when she got home and she didn’t want to do it then, and she’d be getting dressed in a minute. She turned around to face her bed, focusing on the outfit laid out neatly on the quilt. Tissaia brought it last week when she went shopping for Rita’s present—it’s not that she didn’t have a suitable outfit, she had plenty, she just wanted a new one. Plus, she’d worn all her clothes before and she hadn’t treated herself in a while, so why not buy an unneeded outfit that she’ll probably never wear again. Tissaia didn’t have an exact reason for buying it. Her thought process when she picked it up was along the lines of “Coral and Rita have seen me in all my clothes before and I want to look good.”

She grabbed the teal dress from her bed and put it on. Tissaia smoothed out any wrinkles before stepping in front of the mirror, to the right of the bed, to inspect herself. She turned left, right, and away from the floor length mirror to check her back. The dress was short sleeved and knee length; it clung to her body, showing her curves, and was low cut just enough to show some cleavage. Tissaia smiled to herself. Maybe she’d have to find an excuse to wear this dress again.

Her shoes were left off for now (heels hurt), so she moved on to her hair. Tissaia meticulously brushed her hair free of all knots before gathering the front and the sides up to the back of her head and tying it into a neat bun—the back of her hair was left free to fall down her back. She let some wisps frame her face and moved on to her makeup after putting in some hairspray.

Tissaia sat on her knees in front of the mirror, making sure not to crease her dress, and applied her makeup. It was less subtle than usual: she had darker eyeshadow, a little liner, rosier cheeks, and pink gloss.

She looked at the clock on her nightstand, there was an hour left until the taxi would arrive and Tissaia wanted to be ready thirty minutes early. She was currently ahead of schedule. Tissaia rounded her bed and opened her wardrobe; she scanned the contents inside, looking at her coats and jackets and hummed to herself. The bar Rita had chosen was within walking distance of Tissaia’s house, they’d be drinking, and the alcohol would warm her up, so Tissaia decided against a coat or jacket. (Plus the fresh air could help sober her up before she got home.) She shut her wardrobe and began putting some things in her white bag: purse, mints, mascara. She’d put her phone in later.

All that was left to do was put her jewellery and heels on. Tissaia placed a white bracelet around her wrist and put two pearl studs in her ears before picking up her white stilettos and exiting her bedroom. She made sure to turn the light off before padding down the stairs barefoot and leaving her heels by the door. Tissaia headed to the living room and checked the clock on the wall above the tv—forty minutes left, she was on time—before taking a seat on the sofa. She scrolled through her phone until she got a text to announce that her taxi had arrived.

Tissaia put her phone in her bag, headed to the front door, slipped on her stilettos, made sure to pick up Rita’s present, and headed out to the taxi.

It was fifteen minutes before the taxi stopped outside the restaurant. Tissaia paid on her card, thanked the driver and entered the restaurant. She’d been here before a couple years ago. It served wonderful food, had great service and stocked one of Rita’s favourite wines. Thanedd—where the university was located—was full of restaurants and bars, and since there were a great many students, all the businesses bloomed like flowers in spring. Tissaia liked the area; other than the students, it was quiet and peaceful. And that suited her just fine.

Tissaia smiled politely at one of the waitresses and mentioned having a table booked. The waitress led her to a table and Tissaia sat down, smiling politely again. The table was empty and there were no bags or coats hung over the seats, so she was the first to arrive—not that it was surprising, Tissaia was ten minutes early, after all, and the table was booked for six.

Rita and Coral arrived five minutes after Tissaia. She stood up to greet them and handed Rita her present before holding her hands.

“Happy birthday, Rita,” Tissaia said.

“Thank you, dear,” Rita smiled and gave Tissaia’s hands a quick squeeze. She sat down in the chair opposite Tissaia’s, and Coral took her seat next to Rita.

That was strange—Rita always,  _ always  _ sat next to Tissaia. Tissaia sat down and kept her face blank. Why would Rita sit next to Coral? If this was some game they were playing to force Tissaia and Vanielle to spend time together, then Tissaia would be committing a double homicide tonight. Just because Rita thought that Tissaia was sad and lonely and needed to go on a date (she’s not sad, or lonely, and she doesn’t need to go on a date, she was fine, thank you very much), it didn’t mean that she had to play cupid. True, Tissaia hasn’t dated anyone since Rita, but she was happy and not looking for anyone. Tissaia was fine. She was fine.

She was  _ fine. _

Tissaia looked up when Vanielle arrived at exactly six. Both women shared a brief, uncomfortable look before Vanielle handed Rita a small box and wished her a happy birthday, hugging her. Vanielle rounded the table and hung her fluffy coat over the chair. She sat down next to Tissaia and elected to ignore her.

The second the waitress came over Rita ordered one of her favourite wines—a Toussaint red—for all four of them, not giving Tissaia, Coral, or Vanielle a choice. Tissaia and Coral had had the wine before, and both liked it, just not as much as Rita did. Vanielle quickly mentioned that she had a bottle of that exact wine back at her house. Rita leaned across the table.

“Looks like I’ll have to pay you a visit some time,” Rita smiled sweetly at Vanielle.

Tissaia blinked. Was Rita flirting with Vanielle? When did that start happening?

The waitress came back with their wine and Rita moved back across the table to sit in her seat properly. She thanked the waitress and immediately took a sip of wine.

Coral asked Vanielle something—Tissaia wasn’t listening, she was too busy pretending to read the menu. She already knew what she was going to order: medium rare steak. Tissaia glanced up just as Coral pointed to something on the menu to show Vanielle. (Likely a recommendation on what to eat, Coral was a good cook.)

The waitress took their orders around ten minutes later: Coral and Vanielle ordered lobster, Tissaia had steak and Rita had coq au vin. Rita and Coral leaned back in their chairs and slipped into a conversation after the waitress left. Tissaia took a deep breath; Vanielle was next to her pretending to clean her nails in her lap. Tissaia chewed her lip before promptly stopping. She was wearing gloss, damnit. Vanielle leaned over just as Tissaia was about to take a sip of wine.

Vanielle whispered, “We should get along just for tonight, for Rita.”

“I agree.” Tissaia said.

“So…” Vanielle tapped her nails on her glass, “any hobbies?”

“Small talk? Really?”

“What?”

Small talk was horrible. It was like getting home after a long day of work and finding one’s house burnt down. Tissaia hated it. She avoided it the best she could, and if subjected to it, kept it as short and curt as possible. It was meaningless. She wasn’t going to spend Rita’s birthday making small talk with Vanielle. That was out of the question. Tissaia was about to scoff and roll her eyes, but caught herself. Instead, she turned to Vanielle and raised an eyebrow.

“I’m not making small talk with you,” Tissaia said, her voice hushed, “I hate small talk.”

Vanielle shrugged, “so do I.”

Tissaia nodded once and took that sip of wine she intended before Vanielle interrupted her. The wine was sweet and smoaky; it tasted a little like vanilla and nutmeg and warmed Tissaia’s throat when she swallowed it. She took a larger sip and tried to listen to Coral and Rita’s conversation. Tissaia couldn’t hear anything over the noise of the restaurant, so she turned back to Vanielle and asked a question she wanted an answer to.

“Since when was Rita flirting with you?”

Vanielle looked taken aback, “what?”

Tissaia huffed. Did Vanielle know any words in the english dictionary other than “what?”

“I said—“

“I know what you said,” Vanielle interrupted, “but I don’t know. I’m not into her, if that’s what you’re asking.”

That was  _ not  _ what Tissaia was asking! Why would she ask that anyway? She didn’t like Vanielle—any chance to steer clear of personal talk and she’d take it. Tissaia stammered and felt her cheeks warm up.

“Why would I ask that?” Tissaia hissed.

Vanielle now had a shit-eating grin on her face, “oh I don’t know, maybe you’re secretly in love with me. You want to kiss me or something?”

Tissaia stared at Vanielle blankly and opened and closed her mouth. She just had her own words repeated back to her… 

“In your dreams,” Tissaia repeated Vanielle’s own words. Two could play at that game.

“Maybe.” Vanielle said.

Tissaia gulped.

She reached for her glass and downed the remaining wine. It was at least half a glass, but she needed it. Since when did she get so flustered around people? Not even Rita had managed to have as much back and forth with Tissaia than Vanielle did. Tissaia didn’t understand it; they hated each other, yet were able to bounce off one another so easily. Fate was as cruel a mistress as death and it surely enjoyed playing mind games with those woven in its string.

From the look on her face, Vanielle seemed to enjoy rattling Tissaia. She took a sip of wine with a smug smile on her lips before swirling it in the glass. Tissaia watched the whirlpool of wine; it was a deep red and contrasted with the dark cyan painted on Vanielle’s nails. The red wine matched Vanielle’s dress, and Tissaia tore her gaze away from the wine before she ended up staring at Vanielle.

One glass of wine and it was already going to her head. Tissaia inwardly swore at herself as she took the bottle and poured herself another glass—and ignored the pointed look she received from Rita, who hadn’t finished her first glass yet.

Coral gave Tissaia reprieve from her thoughts by leaning across the table and asking a question, “Rita and I can’t decide on an answer, so: would you rather be young and beautiful forever, or never have to worry about getting pregnant?”

Both Tissaia and Vanielle scrunched their brows. What sort of a question was that? Was that what the two of them were talking about?

“Who even came up with that?” Tissaia asked.

Coral pointed to Rita, and Rita gave a guilty shrug. Tissaia decided to play into the question—a little fun never hurt anyone.

“Well, the beauty, obviously, seeing as I have no risk of ever getting pregnant,” Tissaia said as if it were the most glaringly noticeable thing in the world.

(It was.)

Vanielle took a sip of wine, “the same as Tissaia.”

Coral smiled widely and did a small, quiet cheer, “three to one,” she turned to Rita, “I win.”

All four of them conversed some more until their food came, and continued even then. Conversation flowed naturally as if Vanielle had always known Coral, Rita and Tissaia. They got through one more bottle of wine between them and dessert before paying and ordering a taxi to the bar; the ride was ten minutes and Tissaia sat in the front just to avoid Vanielle.

They sat in a booth at the bar and Rita, being Rita, sat next to Coral again. Vanielle offered to get drinks and headed to the bar—Tissaia watched her. Vanielle’s dress was three quarter length and she wore dark cyan heels to match her nails. The dress hugged her body, then fell loose at the waist, flowing down her like a waterfall of blood before stopping at her calves. Vanielle was leaning against the bar waiting for the drinks tugging at the long, tight sleeves of her dress.

Tissaia turned away. It was the alcohol making her stare; if she were sober she would never. Rita wiggled her brows and Tissaia rolled her eyes.

Vanielle came back a couple minutes later carrying all four drinks, and when questioned how, she shrugged and said she used to be a waitress when studying for her english literature degree.

Coral sipped her rum and coke and said, “Tissaia has a degree in english literature.”

“A PhD actually, and in english language and philosophy,” Tissaia said.

“Wow…” Vanielle looked at Tissaia, “that’s impressive.”

“I know.” Tissaia picked up her glass and tasted the berry wine she ordered. It was sweet and had hints of mint in its aftertaste.

The alcohol had gone to their heads slightly and Tissaia found herself laughing more than she usually did. Rita mercilessly critiquing the men in the bar kept Coral, Tissaia and Vanielle laughing for an hour. When Rita and Coral left to get another round of drinks (Tissaia was sticking to wine, she was responsible and wasn’t going to mix alcohol), Tissaia and Vanielle ended up in an argument about classical literature. But, thanks to the alcohol and their light moods, it was more playful than a full blown argument.

“I wouldn’t take you for a fan of crime novels,” Tissaia tilted her head.

“You’re just mad that I’m agreeing with you for once,” Vanielle said.

Tissaia huffed and pointed a finger at Vanielle, “I am not!”

She wasn’t. She was just… surprised. Tissaia knew Vanielle liked classic romance literature and poetry, she didn’t take her for the type of person to like murder and mystery.

“You are,” she swatted Tissaia’s finger away, “you’re in a hissy fit because I like Murder on the Orient Express too.”

“Well,” Tissaia raised an eyebrow, “I bet you didn’t figure out—“

Vanielle interrupted her, “that it was all of them before it was revealed?” She leaned in closer to Tissaia and whispered, “yes I did.”

“Hey. Lovebirds. Drinks.” Coral sat down opposite Tissaia.

Both Tissaia and Vanielle jerked away from each other and shuffled to opposite sides of the seat before reaching for their glasses. Tissaia knew she was red (hopefully her blush would cover some of it up) and she sneaked a glance at Vanielle: she was red in the cheeks too.

Tissaia took an hour to finish her drink and stopped. It was ten thirty at night, she’d had five drinks and her vision was blurry at the edges. She looked at the two empty glasses by Rita—god knows how many drinks Rita had had, her liver was made of steel, Tissaia was sure. Coral had stopped drinking too and was now slowly sipping a glass of water, and Vanielle was finishing the last of her plum gin and lemonade. Tissaia squeezed her eyes shut and pinched the bridge of her nose, trying to ground herself.

“Drunk?” Vanielle’s voice came from Tissaia’s right.

Tissaia shook her head, “no, tipsy.”

Coral called a taxi ten minutes earlier and alerted the other three women that it was waiting outside. Vanielle neatly stacked their glasses in the middle of the table before putting on her coat—Tissaia made sure the glasses were in the exact centre. Coral took Rita by the arm to support her as they all exited the bar. (She had resorted to unprompted giggling and was clearly drunk despite denying it.)

Tissaia’s house was only a thirty minute walk from the bar, and the fresh air would do her good. The alcohol had gone to her head, so maybe spending half an hour outside would clear her head up and she’d be semi sober by the time she arrived home. Then Tissaia could kick her heels off and go straight to bed. She’d have painkillers in the morning if her head decided to curse her with a hangover and she’d spend the day relaxing.

Vanielle mentioned being walking distance from the bar too and both her and Tissaia waved Coral and Rita off as the taxi drove away. Tissaia paused when Vanielle began walking in the same direction as her; they looked at each other awkwardly for a moment before continuing walking, opting to stay in silence.

They had been walking for a while in silence when Tissaia realised that she was an idiot. A tipsy idiot. A cold, tipsy idiot. She really shouldn’t have neglected to bring a coat with her. At least the alcohol provided her with some warmth; Vanielle was smart and had her fluffy coat on over her dress. Even in April it was chilly after the sun had set.

Vanielle halted and eyed Tissaia, “you’re shivering a little.”

“No… no i’m not.” Tissaia lied and crossed her arms, though the lie became transparent when Tissaia visibly shivered.

Vanielle sighed and rolled her eyes, the smallest smile playing at her face.

The alcohol rendered them both a little less in control of their expressions. They had less control of everything, really; Tissaia found herself wanting to be closer to Vanielle because she could smell the plum gin on Vanielle’s breath, and she felt like a child but it smelled nice so maybe it tasted nice too. Maybe she should have ordered the plum gin… Tissaia shivered again. She raised an eyebrow at Vanielle and took a step away when the woman took her coat off, knowing what she intended to do.

“Please, Tissaia, you’re shivering,” Vanielle said softly, a slight slur to her words, “let me.” She put her coat round Tissaia’s shoulders and rubbed them a little, keeping her hands on Tissaia’s upper arms.

Tissaia managed a smile, despite her teeth almost chattering, “thank you.”

Vanielle nodded once and started walking again, but not before moving her hand to rest between Tissaia’s shoulder blades. Vanielle’s hand was warm against her cold back and Tissaia inched a tad closer. Tissaia didn’t understand how Vanielle was always warm; she was like the gentle glow of the sun on a summer’s evening, warming everything she touched, and bringing life to everything too.

They continued walking for a while and Tissaia kept her arms wrapped tightly around her body, tensed up and forcing herself not to shake. Vanielle obviously noticed since she moved her hand from between Tissaia’s shoulders to wrap around her instead. In any normal circumstance, Tissaia would pull away and glare, but she was too cold and too tipsy.

It was the same case for Vanielle, minus being cold. She was slurring every time she talked and her eyes were unfocused. She was trying to act sober, just like Tissaia was, but the little sways every now and then gave it away that she was, indeed, as tipsy as Tissaia.

Vanielle came to a stop again, “how far is your house from here?”

“A fifteen minute walk, why?”

“Come inside, you can keep warm and I’ll call a taxi,” Vanielle jumbled her words together and tugged on Tissaia’s arm a little, pulling her closer. Tissaia let her.

Tissaia stared at Vanielle, trying to process her words. Screw her drunken state. Tissaia was about to shake her head and refuse when a cold breeze ripped through her and caused her to take a sharp intake of breath.

“Alright, fine,” Tissaia mumbled.

Damn the cold.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> did they kiss before 15k? no and i left the ending like that on purpose


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is quite literally 2k words of smut, so if that’s not your thing, you can skip down to the last big paragraph and read from there
> 
> if smut is your thing, please don’t be mean it’s only my second time writing it

Vanielle took her heels off the second she stepped inside her house and placed them in a shoe rack before gesturing for Tissaia to do the same. After hanging up Vanielle’s coat on the rack, Tissaia took her stilettos off and sighed in relief. It was nice to finally take her heels off, her feet were aching. Vanielle led Tissaia into the living room before disappearing to the kitchen and coming back with two glasses of water. She sat next to Tissaia on the sofa and tucked her feet up under her legs.

Tissaia glanced down at Vanielle’s legs. She quickly looked away and slowly drank the water.

It was the alcohol making her like this, it was the alcohol making her like this, it was the alcohol making her like this.

The urge Tissaia had to see if she would taste the plum gin if she kissed Vanielle was becoming stronger with each passing second. Or would it be lemonade? Would there be hints of the warm red wine they had at the restaurant? Or would it be buried by the gin?

They sat in a tense silence until both glasses of water stood empty on the coffee table. Vanielle put her feet on the floor, accidentally knocking knees with Tissaia. Neither moved their legs, both mutually craving more.

“You know,” Vanielle said, “if we drank while working maybe we’d get along.”

Tissaia nodded, too distracted by how Vanielle’s breath smelled like plums to reply. Vanielle seemed to notice and leaned in close.

“But it’s fun to argue with you,” Vanielle whispered and glanced at Tissaia’s lips.

The alcohol was telling Tissaia to play along, to move it further, to see what would happen. (She had a feeling what would happen.) Time seemed to stop for a moment as Tissaia considered her reply. It was… somewhat irritating that Vanielle argued with her for fun, but Tissaia had to admit to herself that she found the arguing fun too. She thought back to earlier in the evening, and all the other times they’d quarrelled, and how easily they bounced off each other.

Her head was swirling, but at the centre, her focus, the thing consuming her thoughts was Vanielle.

Tissaia leaned in close too, “and it’s fun to watch you walk away in defeat every time.”

They were so close now… just an inch and…

Tissaia brushed her lips against Vanielle’s.

The other woman took a sharp intake of breath and closed her eyes.

Both were tipsy and all their fuzzy minds could focus on was each other. Would they regret this in the morning? Probably. But that didn’t matter right now, all that mattered was the sweet smell of perfume and the consuming thoughts of touching each other.

Tissaia kissed Vanielle, sloppily, and tangled a hand in her hair. To Tissaia’s surprise, Vanielle kissed her back. It didn’t last long, though, for Vanielle pulled away and stared at Tissaia for a moment before standing from the sofa and dragging Tissaia up with her. She grabbed Tissaia’s hand and led her upstairs to the bedroom and closed the door.

Vanielle took Tissaia’s face in her hands and kissed her with enough force to slam Tissaia’s back into the bedroom door. Tissaia gasped at the impact and Vanielle took the opportunity to tug at Tissaia’s bottom lip with her teeth before kissing her again. Tissaia could taste the plum gin, and, oh, she wanted  _ more.  _ Everything about Vanielle’s kiss, everything about her touch, it was all intoxicating—Tissaia wrapped her arms around Vanielle’s neck and gave in to the craving desire that overcame her.

She felt Vanielle’s hands travel down her body and grip her hips. Tissaia bit Vanielle’s bottom lip and moved her leg between Vanielle’s legs. Vanielle instinctively grinded down on Tissaia’s leg, seeking more than what they’ve been doing. They kissed again—it was more desperate than before and Vanielle dug her nails into Tissaia’s hips, causing Tissaia to hiss a little.

A hand reached up behind Tissaia’s head and pulled out the pins keeping her (now messy) bun in place. Her hair fell a little, though it was mostly kept in a small clump at the back of her head by the hairspray. That didn’t matter. What mattered was getting Vanielle’s dress off.

Tissaia broke the kiss and turned Vanielle around; she quickly unzipped the red dress and undid the loose plait at the back of Vanielle’s head, watching as her hair unraveled down to her mid back in waves. Tissaia took her own dress off as Vanielle stepped out of hers and kicked it away, turning around to face Tissaia again.

Tissaia put a hand on Vanielle’s chest and backed her up to the other side of the room until the back of her legs hit the bed and she sat down. She took a moment to take Vanielle in. Tissaia couldn’t deny it, Vanielle was beautiful—she had a small map of barely visible freckles on her shoulders.

Vanielle unclasped her own bra and threw it to the floor before pulling Tissaia down for another kiss and taking her bra off too. Tissaia’s gloss was smudged and Vanielle’s own lips were painted a perfect pink with it—Tissaia would rather Vanielle be painted with the marks from the kisses Tissaia wanted to give. But that would come later. First, their panties were in the way and they needed to get rid of them; Tissaia’s were already starting to get soaked. Vanielle shuffled out of hers before pulling Tissaia’s down and letting them drop to the floor—Tissaia stepped out of them and pushed them away with her foot.

Vanielle kissed just below Tissaia’s breasts, moved further back onto the bed, and pulled her onto her lap. Tissaia let her arms fall over Vanielle’s shoulders.

It felt… right.

That was the alcohol talking, right? But they both knew what they were doing. It’s not like they were both blackout drunk; Vanielle was in as much control of her actions as Tissaia was. This is why Tissaia didn’t drink often, and when she did, it was never much. Alcohol intensified everything. What was the saying? Drunk thoughts are sober words? No… drunk words are sober thoughts. Though in this case it was more like actions.

Vanielle kissed along Tissaia’s collarbone, murmuring against her skin, “I can practically hear your thoughts.”

Tissaia stiffened and forced herself to stop thinking. Vanielle pulled away.

“We can stop. I can get you some more water, and call that taxi and make sure you get home safely,” she looked Tissaia in the eyes.

Tissaia simply shook her head “no.” She had control over her actions, she knew what she was doing, and right now, she knew what she wanted. This was something long coming, Tissaia realised, maybe since the start of the night, or maybe months in the making, but in the end it was inevitable. They were bound to clash eventually.

So Tissaia pressed her body against Vanielle’s, kissed her, and guided the woman’s hand down between her legs. The anticipation was killing Tissaia and the heat between her legs wasn’t going away any time soon. Tissaia let Vanielle break the kiss and gently bite her pulse point instead as she slipped two fingers inside Tissaia. (Because Tissaia would let Vanielle do anything to her right now—her touches sent sparks flying.)

Tissaia breathed a moan and let her head fall back. Her hair fell free as the hairspray was slowly making its way out of her hair, and Vanielle took the opportunity to seize Tissaia’s hair in her hand and keep her head tilted back.

Her head was still swirling in a tipsy cloud and Tissaia shut her eyes as she rode Vanielle’s fingers. Vanielle’s kisses traveled down Tissaia’s throat—she left a mark by Tissaia’s shoulder—to the swell of her breasts. The hand left Tissaia’s hair and made its way down her back before cupping her ass.

Tissaia bit back a moan when Vanielle inserted another finger and gripped the bed sheets with a hand—she used her free hand to graze her nails up Vanielle’s stomach, chuckling when she heard Vanielle breathe a moan. Tissaia did it again. She moved her hand from Vanielle’s stomach to cup the back of her neck and pull her closer; Tissaia kissed up Vanielle’s throat until she met her lips in a heated, open mouthed kiss.

Vanielle removed her fingers from Tissaia just as her breathing started to get more ragged. She pushed Tissaia to lie back on the bed and straddled her. Tissaia’s eyes followed Vanielle’s finger as she slowly and lightly scratched her nail down Tissaia’s chest before stopping at her abdomen.

Vanielle got up, put her face between Tissaia’s legs, and put one of Tissaia’s legs over her shoulder, looking her in the eyes the entire time. She bit the inside of Tissaia’s thigh and inserted two fingers again; Tissaia gasped at the bite and a hand grasped at Vanielle’s hair. Vanielle bit her other thigh and started pumping her fingers.

“Oh, God,” Tissaia breathed. She arched her back and closed her eyes, breaking the eye contact she had been holding with Vanielle. Vanielle flicked her tongue over Tissaia’s clit and Tissaia tangled her other hand in Vanielle’s hair, encouraging her to keep going. The pleasure was intoxicating. Tissaia never wanted it to end, she wanted to be greedy and trap this moment in time forever. Her eyes flew open and she gasped and swore when Vanielle bit the inside of her thigh again.

One of Tissaia’s hands flew to her mouth to stifle a moan when she came and she squeezed her eyes shut, seeing stars. Vanielle removed her fingers, wiped them clean and lay down on her side next to Tissaia, watching her—Tissaia rested her hands on her stomach and still had her eyes shut, and was breathing heavily. Vanielle spotted a drop of sweat on Tissaia’s temple and wiped it away with her thumb. Once her breathing was steady, Tissaia opened her eyes and turned her head to look at Vanielle.

She immediately sat up and pushed Vanielle onto her back so she could straddle her. Tissaia ghosted her nails up Vanielle’s sides and Vanielle shivered and fisted the sheets.

Tissaia grinned. So Vanielle’s  _ ticklish. _ Now that, Tissaia could have fun with. How adorable.

Tissaia raised an eyebrow and did it again, the grin still playing on her lips. Vanielle withered below her, but Tissaia’s grin disappeared when Vanielle shook her head, telling her to stop. Okay, so no tickling. Tissaia wasn’t going to do something that Vanielle didn’t like.

“Alright,” Tissaia said.

“Thank you.”

Tissaia removed her hands from Vanielle’s sides and gently pinned her wrists above her head instead. Tissaia waited a moment to see how Vanielle would react, and when she did nothing, Tissaia traced Vanielle’s collarbone with a nail. It was a lovely view from where Tissaia was sitting—the alcohol was wearing off and her vision was no longer blurry at the edges.

She gently wrapped her hand around Vanielle’s throat. Tissaia leaned down and met Vanielle in a hot and hungry kiss; it was passionate and their teeth clashed. Tissaia let go of Vanielle’s wrists and used her free hand to press her palm against Vanielle’s clit, causing her to moan into the kiss, and Vanielle tangled a hand in Tissaia’s hair, the other resting on Tissaia’s cheek.

Tissaia broke the kiss and bit Vanielle’s bottom lip before kissing the corner of her mouth, then along her jawline, and then down her throat, sucking and biting in certain places and leaving marks. Her hand around Vanielle’s throat followed the kisses, getting lower with each one.

Vanielle whined “ _ Tissaia, _ ” and grabbed Tissaia’s hand that was between her legs, begging her to do something.

“Hmm?” Tissaia hummed against Vanielle’s throat.

“ _ More. _ ”

She gave Vanielle just that.

When Tissaia’s mouth reached Vanielle’s collarbone she slowly slipped a finger inside Vanielle, eliciting a small moan from her. Vanielle let go of Tissaia’s hand and grabbed the sheets instead. It was satisfying to have Vanielle below her and to be the cause of the sounds she was making. Tissaia inserted another finger and began working them while pressing her palm harder against Vanielle’s clit. Vanielle’s hand tightened in Tissaia’s hair; she closed her eyes and breathed a moan, her other hand making a mess of the bedsheets.

The bedsheets were all over the place and Vanielle’s bedroom itself smelled of sex, but neither were complaining. Tissaia and Vanielle were enjoying themselves far too much to take notice of the smell or the mess. Their clothes were all over the floor, and only the pillows were left neat at the top of the double bed by the headboard.

Tissaia added another finger and moved them faster. Vanielle swore and arched her back. She opened her eyes to see Tissaia smirking at her—Tissaia kissed Vanielle’s neck just as Vanielle tensed up and cried out Tissaia’s name. Tissaia let Vanielle calm down before removing her fingers, licking them clean, sitting up, and flopping down on the bed, her head hitting a pillow.

They both looked at each other.

Tissaia quickly looked away and stared at the ceiling. Now what? Would Vanielle kick her out? Were they back to hating each other now? They were both sober enough now to have regrets and immediately start launching insults. Tissaia felt Vanielle eyeing her; she kept her eyes on the ceiling and tried to force the anxiety down that she was about to be sent home. To Tissaia’s relief, Vanielle simply laid down on her stomach next to her. She was still looking at Tissaia, though. Tissaia turned her head to her left and locked eyes with Vanielle. She wanted to say something, but didn’t know what, so she let her eyes travel along the curve of Vanielle’s back and then back up to her face again. Vanielle licked her lips, a smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. She reached down and pulled the sheets over them—Vanielle cocooned herself, the sheets up by her neck, and Tissaia left the sheets draped over her waist.

“Tissaia?”

“Yes?” Tissaia held her breath. She waited for Vanielle to say something bad. But wasn’t anything better than nothing?

“Goodnight.” Vanielle whispered and shut her eyes, facing Tissaia.

Tissaia waited there a while until Vanielle drifted to sleep and her breathing evened out. Then, when she was absolutely sure that Vanielle was fast asleep, Tissaia turned on her side to face Vanielle and shut her eyes.

“Goodnight,” she whispered before succumbing to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hope u enjoyed ☺️ thank u for reading


End file.
